


Baby Don't Stop

by dirtyretro



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dom/sub Undertones, Escorts, Exhibitionism, Financial Domination, M/M, Smut, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-01-15 21:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21259826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtyretro/pseuds/dirtyretro
Summary: Ten knew the clientele like the back of his hand. He knew what they wanted and how far they’d go to attain it. Though he’d bite at the right price, the feeling was seldom mutual.He couldn’t help it, he had a type, and the sharp-dressed businessman over there checkedallthe right boxes.





	1. You & I

Slicked back hair, sharp jawline, loosened tie around a clean-shaven neck, and a brooding demeanor—a lonesome businessman made weary by the daily grind. In a corner away from center focus, the businessman kept to himself as he sipped a snifter of something amber. His eyes were dark, or so they appeared in the dim light of the smoky lounge. The Rolex on his arm was exquisite, almost as flashy as his polished cufflinks, and everytime he sipped his drink, the blue light of the bar reflected off it and drew attention to him. 

Ten, who had been ogling for the past twenty minutes, wondered if the businessman knew that. That no matter how much of a wallflower he seemingly pretended to be, he stuck out. Businessmen such as him, all designer suits on broad shoulders and glossy shoes on large feet, didn’t frequent this lounge. As a regular, Ten would know. And he certainly would’ve remembered a face like  _ that. _

He knew the clientele like the back of his hand. He knew what they wanted and far they’d go to attain it. Though he’d bite at the right price, the feeling was seldom mutual. He couldn’t help it, he had a type, but Mr. Broody Businessman over there checked all the  _ right _ boxes. Besides, fishing for clients didn’t always have to be about business… What was that expression about all work and no play? 

Facepalming, Ten giggled to himself. God, he was so thirsty. He sounded so corny, too, like he believed in love at first sight or something. It wasn’t like that at all—he just wanted to walk up to that man, snatch him by the collar, and plant a fat kiss on his pouty lips; take charge and make shit happen like he always did. Whenever he did that, though, he wound up skipping to the end before ever exchanging names. It sucked the thrill right out of the game. 

Something about the charisma and confidence the businessman exuded made Ten want to shift tactics and be patient. Wanted to strap himself in and ride this rollercoaster through all its provocative twists and turns, wanted to rise and fall with the allure of craving something just out of reach. The way the businessman drank him in like a touch-starved lover told Ten he’d get the thrill he yearned for. And shit, he deserved it. 

In a white, collarless shirt and a greenish-teal, velvet sport coat, shiny hoops and cuffs in his ears, slim-fitting black jeans on his hips, Ten pursed his glossed lips together and ruffled his fluffy dark hair. The blue light of the bar he sat at splashed over his features, tinting him a subtle green that complemented his coat. He looked tailored and refined and heavenly; like a beautiful doll on display, he was perfect. 

He made passive glances at the businessman as he chatted with the barkeep and smiled at the regulars. He played it cool, stayed lowkey, toyed with his earrings, brushed off other men’s advances. Subtlety, finesse. He wanted eye contact, though; he craved unspoken conversation. 

And then it happened. 

The businessman looked at him, and for the first time that night his face pulled into a smile. A half-smile, really, but it was enough. And lord, his gaze was intense. Those eyes were dark and deep and mysterious. He never looked away, never indicated he would. Ten was breathless. He held the gaze best he could, but the depth of their contact pacified his wildness.

This man wanted to chase. Pursue. And it happened the instant their eyes met.

Heart in his throat, Ten cupped his cheek in his palm and leaned against the bartop. Others at the bar conversed loudly around him, but they were nothing but faceless shadows in the background. It felt like the distance between them wasn’t the whole length of a bar but instead mere inches apart, hot and tangible, like an exchange of body heat that only made them hotter. 

He bit his lip. The businessman followed the movement with his gaze. The way he watched, the way he moved his own lips subconsciously made Ten’s heart beat quicker. So he played along, drifted his gaze down the businessman’s jaw, neck, the splash of skin under his unbuttoned white shirt, the silver sheen of the embroidered logo of his suit jacket. 

Did he work at a law firm? Was that too cliche to assume? Maybe he had a hard case and came to the bar to decompress, or perhaps he won the case and was celebrating victory?

He looked expensive, probably drank something expensive. Probably had a private bar in a swanky office on the twentieth floor of a highrise. Probably stocked it with expensive, exotic liquors. Probably was world-traveled and collected only the finest bottles from each country he visited. Probably had a private jet with its own expensive bar, too. 

Maybe he’d take Ten there someday. Maybe tonight? Show him how gorgeous the neon cityscape was as he bent him over his desk, wrists bound by the silk of his tie, moans muffled by masculine hands clamped over swollen lips. Or maybe this world-traveled business was into something  _ different? _

Oh god, Ten was head over heels already. It  _ was _ love at first sight. 

He looked away, smitten, unable to resist the businessman’s charms. He caught his breath as he ignored the throb in his pants; a dull, achey throb thrumming through his entire body like the sultry vibrations of an acoustic guitar. Like the music playing in the speakers of the bar; a temptation, an invitation. Squeezing his thighs together, he nipped his bottom lip again. Cheeks red, he felt the spotlight he placed on himself, knowing the businessman was still looking at him because he could _ feel _ it. 

“Excuse me?” 

Ten glanced up at the voice, shook by its suddenness. He relaxed when he saw it was the bartender. She offered a pinkish-clear drink in a heavy-bottomed glass to him. Vodka cranberry? “The gentleman over there wanted me to give you this,” she added, pointing her chin in the direction of the businessman. 

Staring at the drink, Ten shot a look at the businessman. The businessman lifted his chin, black hair falling into his face as he did. He looked smug. Was this a trick he always used? Did it always work? A man of wealth and class could surely do better than a vodka cranberry. Ten regarded the bartender and shoved the drink toward her. “Tell him I have expensive tastes. I only drink top shelf.”

She smirked as if invigorated by their silent game of cat-and-mouse. As the messenger, she had the best seat in the house to watch the challenge unfurl. “Yes, of course.” She collected the cocktail and disposed of it, seemingly eager to inform the businessman of the turn of events. As Ten watched her approach him, he watched the man’s face change, watched it twist into a smirk. He liked the challenge, huh?  _ Good. _

Making sure to appear indifferent and unaffected, Ten paid no attention to the businessman at all as he waited. Cool as he appeared, he hoped his cheeks weren’t bright red. Luckily, it didn’t take long for the bartender to return with a stout glass of coppery-amber liquid and a sword of skewered black cherries rested elegantly atop. A manhattan? Improvement. 

“He asked for your name,” she relayed, seemingly curious herself as she slid Ten the glass. 

Ten picked up the glass, swirled it like he had done this numerous times before, and smelled its deep aroma; definitely aged bourbon, definitely top shelf. “Ten. What’s his?” he countered, to which the woman replied quicker than he anticipated—Mr. Seo, she said, though he preferred to be called Johnny outside of work. 

Ten was tempted to inquire further about Mr. Johnny Seo, but he decided he liked the thrill of not knowing. He rather enjoyed the veil of mystery; he could live out his slutty fantasies that way. Though try as he might to remain collected, he felt a blush heat his cheeks when he watched the bartender tell Mr. Johnny Seo his name. The look in the man’s eyes was primal, lustful, and the way his full lips formed his name filled Ten’s mind with a burning desire to hear what Mr. Johnny Seo sounded like, to hear his name be pronounced by those tantalizing lips. 

God, those lips were entrancing. He wondered what they tasted like. If Mr. Johnny Seo was drinking a manhattan with top shelf bourbon, too, would his lips taste the same? Ten locked eyes with the businessman and took his first sip, practically moaning at the pungent splash of flavor on his tongue. So smooth, so refined; he had never tasted anything so expensive in his life. The businessman must’ve known that judging by the smirk on his face. 

After a few more sips, bourbon livened Ten’s bones, made him looser and more relaxed. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth to leech the last bit of alcohol that lingered there. He thought about what it was like to kiss Mr. Johnny Seo, how he’d do it, if he’d have the thoroughness of a lawyer, if bourbon tasted sweeter on his lips, if he’d take control or allow Ten to set the pace… 

Then he got an idea—the mouse tempting the cat. 

Coyly, Ten plucked the decorative sword from the manhattan glass and slowly brought it to his lips, pulling off a dark cherry in an exaggerated, sultry manner. Lips pillowy around the fruit, he slowly rolled it back on his tongue and bit in, eyes fluttering shut as he relished its juicy flavor. The cherry was decadent and velvety on his tongue, and it stained his lips a deep red that made Mr. Johnny Seo shift in his seat. Ten licked his lips and sucked another cherry into his mouth, teasing the businessman with earnest delicacy. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” said a man in a cashmere shirt and a dazzling smile as he slid up to the bar beside Ten, blocking Mr. Johnny Seo from view. “But I couldn’t help but notice you… I’d love it if you’d dance with me.”

A challenger; how delightfully unexpected. Ten tilted his head, intrigued. The bartender conspicuously stepped closer. He wished he could see the businessman’s reaction to the new variable. Always up for a challenge, Ten batted his pretty lashes and smiled. “I thought you’d never ask,” he replied, boasting with false implication. 

The man, a gentleman in his own right, took Ten by the hand and lead him to the dance floor. He was tall, masculine, definitely closested judging by the gold wedding band on his finger, but Ten was used to being the taboo escape. 

In the speakers, guitar played a sultry riff that animated Ten’s body. His back against the man’s chest, he moved slow and elegant like the riff itself, movements waning with the smooth thrum of cords. Much to his satisfaction, the man kept up well and moved with well-placed accompaniment. He was broad and manly behind Ten, guiding the way gentlemen did when they showcased their partner. And Ten  _ loved _ being showcased, being shown off like the prize he was, like the charismatic dancer he was at heart. The bourbon in his veins smoothed the edges of their new acquaintanceship, evoking the synergy of well-rehearsed dancers. 

The dance floor was small, hardly a dance floor at all really, but it was decent enough. Sectioned off with synthetic, tropical plants in dark, wicker baskets and four-seater tables for more outgoing bar-goers, it made for intimate company. And it was hot, too. Sweltering, in fact. Heat radiated off Ten’s skin, dampened his luxurious shirt, made the man’s body pressed against his own evermore intense. 

The businessman’s eyes were intense, too, penetrated him just as they had before. So much stimulation, so much attention; feeding his fantasy of being the object of everyone’s desire. He couldn’t help it. An exhibitionist a heart, he liked attention, and the businessman knew exactly how to give it to him.

Ten reached back and grabbed the man by the nape, gently pulling him forward so he could turn his cheek to him. Their faces close, they shared breaths, intimate movement, sexual tension. The firm hand on Ten’s hip tightened, the silent conversation of their eyes escalating just as the guitar melody did. The man wanted Ten, and fuck, he could  _ get it— _ but the businessman, Mr. Johnny Seo, he was watching. No jealousy, no possessiveness, just simple appreciation from an interested voyeur excited and enticed by the display of another man enjoying himself. 

And goddamn, it was sexy. 

As the song drew to a close, the businessman suddenly stood and slipped the bartender a wad of cash. He walked with intent and authority, and he captivated Ten with expensive swagger. Eyes still locked on Ten, his gaze held risque promises, making Ten subconsciously bite his bottom lip. He moved with purpose, too, no doubt he was a man who  _ always _ got what he wanted; and he damn sure  _ would, _ but not without a little more sweet temptation. 

“Come home with me?” the man Ten danced with whispered, low and hot, and Ten groaned at the implication. He pressed against the man, grinding slow and careful, but stayed silent. He didn’t want to say no, but he didn’t want to say yes; he just wanted to revel in it all,  _ wanted _ to be the mouse caught in the cat’s trap… From the look of it, just a little while longer and the cat was ready to pounce. 

Whispering into the man’s ear, Ten kept eye contact with Mr. Johnny Seo. “What are you gonna do to me while I’m there?”

The man’s grip tightened. He was hard, Ten felt it against his ass. “I’ll do whatever you want,” the man groaned, aroused. His breath was melodic and sensual in Ten’s ear. 

“Oh yeah? What if what I want might be too much for you to handle?” Ten taunted as he spun around and traced the pad of his finger down the front of the man’s cashmere shirt. His eyes sparkled with mischief as the man’s confident smirk faltered slightly. “What’s the matter, baby? Am I more than you bargained for?” 

The man’s reaction was ambiguous, but it wasn’t until Ten felt the strong presence of another behind him that he realized why. 

“Pardon me… May I have this dance?”

Ten knew who it was without turning around. A smile found its way onto his cherry-bourbon lips. He caressed the man’s cheek and stared into his ocean eyes, then politely dismissed him like the pawn he was from the very start. “Thanks for a fun time, but I’m not the one, sweetheart.” 

Irritated, the man left, leaving just Ten and the businessman to finally,  _ properly _ meet. 

With an anticipatory sigh, Ten turned around, nearly losing his breath at the dramatic height difference. The businessman must’ve caught the fleeting breathlessness because he grinned knowingly. And God, he was so handsome. Black hair slicked back, shoulders broad, long legs, large feet. Ten wanted to drop to his knees and worship the man where he stood, but he was playing a game he intended to  _ win. _

“I thought you’d never ask,” he replied, tone sultry as he drank the businessman in. His heart thudded in his chest like a lovestruck teenager. 

“So you’ve been waiting?” Mr. Johnny Seo cooed. 

Damn, touché. Ten’s lips curled into a grin. “Ever since I first saw you.”

“You were sure, huh?” The businessman asked with a deep rasp. He gravitated toward Ten and grabbed him by the waist, authoritative and confident like Ten predicted. Their bodies touched, and instead of sweltering heat it was white-hot electricity. 

Ten nearly lost his breath a second time as bourbon and expensive cologne wafted into his nose. He fiddled with the businessman’s shiny cufflinks to distract himself. “I know what I want,” he replied as he danced smoothly, entranced by Spanish guitar and Mr. Johnny Seo’s large hands on his hips. 

And the businessman chuckled, sending that white-hot electricity straight to Ten’s dick. “That’s something we have in common.”

Ten groaned but said nothing, preferring to indulge in Mr. Johnny Seo’s presence. They vibed naturally to the song, airy but grounding in its musicality, their bodies honest in their lust. Dancing was honest, too; it always revealed the truth. And commanding as it was, there was an apprehension in the businessman’s presence to steer the reigns that Ten found peculiar. He dressed like a boss, smelled like a boss, observed like one too, but his dancing gave him away—Mr. Johnny Seo sought escape from his hot shot typecast. 

Ten’s dick jumped at the epiphany. “You’re a terrible dancer,” he teased, experimenting with his discovery.

“It’s not my day job.” The businessman replied, unaffected. 

Shimmery torso lapping against Mr. Johnny Seo in subtle body waves, Ten kittenishly asked, “What is?”

“I’m a lawyer. You couldn’t tell?” The man was mesmerized like a sailor was to a siren. 

Ten giggled. “I could…” He hooked the businessman by his starch-pressed collar and pulled him to eye-level. “Maybe you’ll show me your office someday?” 

“Someday?” The businessman lifted a brow at Ten’s confidence. He liked it a lot. 

Cavalier, Ten replied, “Yeah, not tonight.” He shamelessly eyed Mr. Johnny Seo’s lips, so thick and full, and remembered his detailed fantasy of tasting them. A groan left his lips as he breathed the businessman in. 

“You really do know what you want.” The businessman said it matter-of-fact, like a lawyer recounting the events of a trial. He clung to his tried and true demeanor, skillfully disguising how aroused he was by Ten’s sexual confidence. 

Ten knew better. “That’s right.” He slipped his velvety, teal sport coat off one shoulder and flashed a stretch of creamy skin to whet the businessman’s appetite. “Don’t you want to see what I have on under this?”


	2. Luxurious

“Wow, this is _ phenomenal_.”

“It’s alright, I suppose,” Johnny admitted as he rubbed the back of his head.

Mr. Johnny Seo’s luxury penthouse suite was on the second-to-top floor of a high rise in a gorgeous, expensive burough of New York City. Modern and chic, with angular corners and a grand window the size of a wall overlooking the neon city lights as far as the eye could see. Styled with espresso wood and fluorescent array lights and ruby sectionals, it was a glorified Architectural Digest cut-out. 

“It’s _ alright? _ It’s too late to be humble,” Ten guffawed, almost appalled at the businessman’s politeness. He could never, _ ever _ get anywhere near able to afford something this spectacular. 

“I guess I do well for myself.”

Ten ignored the businessman’s modesty out of feigned spite, opting instead to launch himself onto the plush couch. “It looks like a staged house. It doesn’t look like someone actually lives here.” Flipping onto his back, he stared up at the cathedral-style ceiling in awe. Only then did he notice the vintage chandelier overlooking the room. 

Johnny observed Ten with interest. “I spend a lot of time at work,” he said as he leaned into the doorframe. 

“I’ll say…” Ten placated, already moving passed marveling to refocus on the original intent of accompanying the sleek businessman to his penthouse. “What’s the bedroom look like?”

Johnny chuckled and nodded in the direction of the bedroom. Ten leapt off the couch and caught the businessman by the hand, sneaking him a flirty once-over as he pulled him down the hall. The businessman, while much taller than Ten, was easy to tug, or perhaps he was just as eager as Ten. 

The playful tone shifted the instant they entered the bedroom. The bustling city noises outside seemingly quieted. Heart thumping in his chest, Ten stopped in front of the businessman and gently brushed hair from his eyes. He molded into the businessman and studied his handsome face. Johnny was quiet and astute, presence commanding but not as dominant as it had been at the club. In fact, it wasn’t dominant at all; he looked soft and vulnerable and nervous but very, very enamored. 

“What are you into, Mr. Johnny Seo?” Ten asked with those signature sparkly eyes. For once, it wasn’t a canned icebreaker he asked all his clients. 

A small breath escaping his lips, Johnny shivered. “Do you have to say my full name like that?”

Ten grabbed the businessman by his tie and rubbed the soft material against his cheek. Innocently, he glanced up and whispered, “Mhm, it turns me on.”

Johnny gulped but played it off. Answering the question, he said, “I’m into smooth talkers. Men who know what they like… Men who take control.” He paused as if apprehensive but continued. “And men who want to be spoiled with money and expensive gifts.”

“Oh? Spending money turns you on?” Ten was no stranger to exchange of money, but sexual gratification _ from _ money was a new venture altogether. “Really now, that’s…” he trailed off, mind running wild with scenarios he never considered before. 

“I-I like a bottom who enjoys himself,” Johnny specified, though it somehow felt a shade vaguer than his previous comment.

His amusement shining through a grin, Ten worked at the businessman’s tie, careful to take his time as he unknotted it. “So you want me to ride you, demand money, spoil myself with it, and come back looking cute just to ride you again? What is this, a sugar daddy situation?”

“No, I… Maybe?” Johnny cleared his throat to disguise the impending crack in his voice. “I’m into financial domination.”

Ten stopped, wholly invested. “You mean it turns you on for _ me _ to spend _ your _ money?”

Johnny nodded. “But you’re not… You’re not a prostitute. You don’t have to sleep with me at all. You spending my money and being spoiled is what does it for me.” 

It was official; Ten had died and gone to wet dream heaven. “How much money?” 

“As much as you want… several thousand, if you want.” The businessman paused to appreciate Ten’s beauty, to gauge his reaction. “If you’re not into this… I just want this to be mutual.” 

Ten snickered, still amused. “Believe me, Mr. Johnny Seo, this is so fucking mutual. I get to sit on that fat dick and make you mewl by spending a few thousand on myself. I have only one question: do you prefer leather or lace… Or is it silk?” he whispered as he nuzzled the businessman’s loose tie and lead Johnny’s hand down the front of his pants so he’d feel the soft, cool silk of Ten’s briefs. 

Mr. Johnny Seo’s dick responded for him with an enthusiastic surge of blood. “You’d look stunning in anything. Coco, Gucci, Prada, Fenti, Versace, anything and everything. But again, you don’t have to sleep with me. I don’t expect it—”

Ten yanked Johnny down to his level by his fancy tie. He pressed the businessman’s hand firmer on his cock and groaned. “How about I just get naked and you show me how gorgeous the skyline is while you pleasure me?”

“Only if you do it slowly,” Johnny agreed.

Ten quirked a brow, surprised by the sudden audacity from the lips of a man who had been so reserved seconds prior. Then he remembered Mr. Johnny Seo was a cutthroat lawyer, and no matter how vulnerable he appeared moments ago he could easily revert to his businessman persona. Ten liked it, though; it kept him on his toes. “Whatever you say, Mr. Johnny Seo. Make yourself comfortable, babe.”

And Johnny did just that. He fixed himself a drink at his personal bar—classy and expensive just as Ten predicted—and sat himself in a dark leather chair with a backrest taller than the businessman himself. His silk tie was long since discarded, and now he hastily tugged at the collar of his dress shirt to cool his heated arousal. 

From a close distance, Ten locked eyes with Johnny and slid his teal blazer off his shoulders, letting the garment pool at his elbows as he coyly turned around. Fingers working the buttons of his white shirt, he undid it halfway before finally allowing the blazer to slip off his arms onto the luxury carpet. 

The urban lighting revealed his shirt to be more sheer than originally presented. When he faced the businessman, his nipples were hard and cute beneath the thin material. Just like when he teased Mr. Johnny Seo with the cherries of his Manhattan, the businessman’s eyes followed the object of desire as he sharply inhaled at the sight. Smirking, Ten rubbed his nipples over the fabric, biting his lip for added effect. 

And as much as Mr. Johnny Seo may have wanted Ten to take off his shirt, he didn’t. He kept it on, just let it slide off his shoulder, accenting the sharp line of his collarbone, the lithe width of his shoulder, the splash of skin, and the full, pink tease of his nipple with a silver bar pierced through the nub. 

Goddamn. The businessman visibly shifted and lifted his chin authoritatively, like he was struggling with his patience but knew better than to make haste of the very request he made. He settled back into his chair and clenched the glass tight in his hand. 

Ten smirked, knowing the effect he had. He ghosted his hands, fingers slim and appealing with their numerous silver rings, down his stomach to his hips. He made slow work of his belt before dipping beneath his waistband and rubbing his erection. Eyes heavy-lidded and lips parted, a small noise left his lips as he hooked his thumbs his in belt loops and pulled off his black jeans; slowly, of course, as was requested. 

He stood demure and tantalizing in a sheer white shirt draped off his shoulder and a pair of sapphire blue thong Jockeys. His ears shined with jewelry. His hair was puffy and dark around his face. Eyes sparkling. He looked so decadent that Mr. Johnny Seo downed the rest of his scotch on the rocks in one go, rasping at the harshness as he slowly arose. 

“Mr. Johnny Seo, why don’t you help me with the rest?” Ten pouted. 

How could the businessman deny such a request?

As Johnny stalked forward, Ten stepped back. When the backs of his thighs hit the bed, Ten sat and laid back, arms splayed out and legs coyly crossed. The bluish lights of the city illuminated the bedroom and added color to the opulent bedding and mountain of decorative pillows he laid on. Johnny admired Ten’s image against the Egyptian cotton; luxury suited him so well, and it bewitched him so much he didn’t want to squander the visual. 

But then Ten lifted his smooth legs and drew a line up the businessman’s body with the point of his toe. He grabbed a cashmere pillow to rest his head on as he taunted the businessman with the very image that affected him so greatly—he knew it did; the businessman’s face was _ very _ telling. And Ten liked the transparency; it was a refreshing take on his usual poker-faced patron. 

Foot at Johnny’s chest, Ten playfully shoved him and, without testing the waters, dove head-first. “Worship me.”

Johnny groaned and immediately dropped to his knees. Taking Ten’s foot in his hand, he gently massaged it, noticing the tiny, silver ring on his little toe. So dainty, so pretty, and it could look so much prettier with diamonds embedded in it. He kissed Ten’s foot, then up his legs to his thighs, careful to treat every inch with the same admiration. The confidence Ten exuded reinforced Johnny’s arousal; he knew he was worth worshipping. 

Ten watched the powershift through thick lashes. He relished being doted on, being praised by simple actions, especially by a man so handsome. He loved attention, but this type of attention was invigorating. Mr. Johnny Seo made him feel like the prize he was, yet he hardly knew anything about the man. Despite that, their chemistry was immediate, making Ten feel comfortable, authentic. 

“How much were these?” Johnny suddenly asked as he rubbed the material of Ten’s silk briefs between his fingers. He studied the material as if to appraise it. 

“$50,” Ten replied, a little bashful at the question. No one had ever asked, or cared to ask, about something so cosmetic. Simple enough question, really, but when Johnny asked it felt different; it felt _ sexy. _ Having small details about himself noticed was gratifying. 

Johnny hummed. “$1,000 is your new minimum.” 

Ten’s initial reaction was to scoff, but the serious look in the businessman’s eyes revealed how genuine he was. “And you’re paying for that?” he balked, breaking character momentarily. 

“Happily.”

“Well, I do like being spoiled,” Ten said, embracing his role once more. Biting his bottom lip, his gaze fell to the bulge his briefs and he asked, “Take them off? They’re too tight.” 

Even if he wanted to, and he most definitely did not, Johnny couldn’t say no. Ten was so gorgeous rutting his hips and pouting at the sensual throb; aching for contact after prolonged teasing. He wasn’t the only one, though. The businessman himself was practically numb from the temptation. He slid the blue fabric off Ten’s hips and down the slender legs he had just worshipped, pressing kisses to the skin as his gaze followed the path of the shedded garment. One last glimpse at the silver toe ring before he treated himself to the pièce de résistance… Ten’s dick was cute and hard and perfect, and Johnny didn’t hesitate to grab it at the base and suck the whole length into his throat. 

Ten lurched forward at the suddenness and a gasp trapped in his throat as he was swallowed whole. _ “Oh… _ my god.” The suction, the warmth, the tempo were so good. He threw his head back onto the luxury bedding and arched his back as Johnny blew him. 

No client had ever deepthroated him, let alone taken the time to suck him off at all. Funny, Mr. Johnny Seo appeared very heterosexual, but with these skills he must’ve explored his sexual identity more than Ten initially assumed. If that was the case, Ten was tempted to push the boundaries a little bit more… 

“Pop the buttons of your shirt. Show some skin,” he said, threading his hands through Johnny’s dark, gelled hair to messy it up. The businessman groaned and did as he was told, unbuttoning his Ralph Lauren pressed shirt midway to reveal smooth skin and a classy, gold necklace. And then Ten pulled him off and pressed a finger to his wet lips to push open his mouth, guiding him to suck on the sensitive tip. Deep, brown eyes stared up at Ten, showcasing the shyer side of Mr. Johnny Seo that came out earlier. He was _ loving _ this, and it really validated Ten’s exploration of dominance. 

“Good boy,” he whispered as he tucked hair behind the businessman’s ear. He watched Johnny’s eyes glimmer at the pet name. Was he into praise? “You’re so good, you know that? I, _ mmph, _ didn’t know you’d take care of me, _ ah! _ so well. I feel so good, you make me feel so good, Mr. Johnny Seo. _ Mmm, _ please keep spoiling me like this.” 

“I’ll give you anything you want, baby,” Johnny muttered wetly before swallowing Ten’s length to the hilt. Ten flinched and moaned, holding the businessman down on his cock for a few seconds longer just to hear the man choke before releasing him. “I want to make you cum. Can I? Please?” Johnny breathed out, catching his breath and wiping precum and spit from his mouth. 

Smirking, Ten shook his head and stuck a finger into the businessman’s mouth for him to suck. “Not yet. I want you to eat my ass first.” 

Finger coated in saliva, Ten lifted his legs to expose himself. He was comfortable enough with his body to reveal himself so intimately—after all, it was a frequent aspect of his occupation. And he made sure Mr. Johnny Seo watched as he circled his finger around his hole, enjoying the visible gulp the businessman made as he helplessly watched. “Be a good boy and make me cum with your tongue.” 

The go-getter he was, Johnny didn’t hesitate. He stared Ten in the eyes before grasping the backs of his thighs and pushing his legs farther back. He marvelled at the erotic sight with a breath hitched in his throat before giving in. His tongue joined Ten’s finger as they stretched the tight rim together. Ten’s sexy noises, the enticing curve of his ass, his slender legs up in the air, the cute grasp of the sheets, the shimmer of glitter on his lithe body in the New York City night lights was everything Johnny wanted and more. Damn, he was hard as a rock in his fitted Tom Ford suit pants. 

So far he hadn’t been touched—it had been all about Ten—and that was the _ exact _ reason he was throbbing. _ Giving _ pleasure gave him pleasure. A line of saliva connected his tongue to Ten’s hole as he pulled away to strip off his tailored suit jacket, his face flushed from the build up of heat and pleasure and intensity. 

“No, keep it on. You look so good… How much was this?” Ten said, reaching out to rub the collar of the businessman’s suit between his split legs. Johnny looked up to drink in the vulgar scene before him—Ten’s slick cock was hard against his belly, his balls were pulled taut like he was staving off an orgasm, his finger rubbed his hole, his nipple piercings and toe ring glinted in the light, and his angelic face was blissed out. It was a glorified Penthouse centerfold. 

Mr. Johnny Seo almost didn’t comprehend what Ten said because the view was too distracting. 

“$5,000… Custom tailoring,” he replied as if hypnotized. 

Ten lazily stroked himself as he locked eyes with the businessman. His white shirt had pooled at the bend of his elbow and was almost translucent from sweat, and his hips jerked in tiny movements as pleasure bubbled inside him. “Will I look, _ mmph, _ that good when you spend all of your money on me?”

“You’ll look so much better than me, baby.” Mr. Johnny Seo guaranteed. He sucked on the tip of his middle finger as Ten mewled, then pressed it against his wet hole. He teased him only as long as he could tease himself before thrusting in beside Ten’s own finger. Ten’s breath hitched and so did Johnny’s as he fingered him, experimenting with what Ten reacted the best to. “Though I can’t imagine you looking better than this.” 

“Really?” Ten groaned, a blush forming on his heated cheeks. No client had ever flattered him so much. Hell, none had been as thorough either. The shameless attention satisfied his innermost sexual cravings. He loved being a pillow princess, and being worshipped like one, especially so dutifully, was long overdue. “You really wanna treat me right, huh? Get me looking expensive?” 

The businessman groaned and plunged his finger deep, wriggling just the tip to hit Ten’s prostate at the perfect moment. And Ten’s orgasm lapped at him like waves on a beach, building in intensity until a tidal wave formed inside. When Johnny tongued his stretched rim, making Ten’s toes curl deliciously in the Egyptain cotton sheets, Ten jerked his dick faster until the tidal wave crashed over him and he shot his load all over his sweaty stomach. 

Mr. Johnny Seo licked over Ten’s balls and up his spent cock, swiping his tongue over the head before cleaning the cum off Ten’s stomach in methodical, ticklish laps. A string of profanities left Ten’s lips as he continued to lazily stroke himself to overstimulation. His free hand carded through Johnny’s hair affectionately when the man seized his hand and sucked the last drops from his dick. 

“Thorough. You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” asked Ten. He smiled cutely down at the businessman.

Johnny chuckled. “So have you.”

Ten shrugged with feigned innocence. “Let me suck you off.” His gaze pointed to the businessman’s bulge beneath heavy, pressed suit pants. “Or maybe you just wanna fuck me now that I’m all stretched out?” He offered Johnny his signature ‘fuck me’ look: a sultry pout and dreamy bedroom eyes, no doubt bewitching in all its racy appeal.

“Perhaps another time,” Mr. Johnny Seo replied in a distinctly lawyer tone of voice. He had made the switch from submissive top to cut-and-dried lawyer seamlessly. “Why don’t you shower and stay the night? You look so good in this bed, and I can treat you to breakfast in the morning.” 

“If that’s what you want… but I’m gonna hold you to that,” Ten said as he sat up, his damp shirt hanging off his elbows, and cupped Johnny’s dick in his palm. He grinned when the businessman released a heavy breath. “Join me in the shower? I want to at least look at it.” He gave the bulge a gentle squeeze.

“If it’ll make you happy.”

“I would like it very much, Mr. Johnny Seo… Also, I don’t think I can find the bathroom in this massive penthouse by myself…”   
  


**Author's Note:**

> This is really just an excuse to spoil Ten... 
> 
> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/xdirtyretro) | [Tumblr ](https://dirtyretrowrites.tumblr.com/)


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